Friday’s Child

Today’s my birthday. Doing some research I found that I was born on a Friday. I’m not sure I knew that. I also found out that I’m 456 months old, 1,983 weeks old and 13,879 days old. In simpler terms… I’m old.

As I approach 40, I’m just beginning to feel old. I still feel very young, but I know I’m not. My knees and ankles hurt from running cross country in high school and college and I do get sore much easier. I can’t imagine the shape I was in when I was 20.

My music is considered classic rock. I remember LPs and cassettes and I know what a boom box was. I grew up when remote controls, VCRs and cell phones were just beginning. I still own the first CD I bought. I remember Pong, Space Invaders, Donkey Kong, Galaga and a host of others. I remember when cable TV was the next big thing and everybody wanted MTV.

I remember the Brat Pack and Sixteen Candles and the Breakfast Club. I remember Michael Jackson when he was still black. Miami Vice was cool. Cosby and Family Ties ruled Thursday.

I remember Swatch and plastic bracelets and parachute pants and Ray Bans. I remember Tom Cruise when he had All the Right Moves and was into Risky Business. Tom Hanks was cross-dressing on television and his Oscar wins were just a dream on the horizon.

I can never forget the magical summer of 1982 when I saw Blade Runner, Star Trek II The Wrath of Khan, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Tron, Rocky III and ET for the first time. Or being 9 and seeing Star Wars for the first time and then going back and seeing it again the next day.

I remember my first beer and my first hangover. I remember meeting the people who have influenced me from the moment I met them. I remember meeting my girlfriend when we were both awkward kids in high school and how silly and shy we were.

I remember cruising my hometown with my friends, watching football games on a Friday night and generally having the time of my life.

Someone said life is a series of events. I couldn’t agree more.